D is for Dream
by Madilayn
Summary: Overtiredness following a brushfire causes a Lineman from Station 51 to have a strange dream. Another part of my Alphabet challenge response. Thank you to RescueSquad51 for the plot puppy. For once the puppy went the other way! RescueSquad51's response to the same bunny is over at called "Musings of a Concussed Engineer" Rated for language.


Three days. Three fucking days of fighting what seemed like a never ending brushfire. Three days of camp food (admittedly, the Red Cross food was actually better than a lot of their normal meals at the Station) and in the same clothes, with only the occasional ability to wash your face or hands.

Lack of sleep and the constant ache of muscles from physical labor made for short tempers all around. Everybody had been surprised by Cap's barked "If ya gotta fuckin' stop and take a piss, at least piss on the fuckin' fire!"

Captain Stanley didn't tolerate swearing during his shift – he used the word "bloody" on occasion when he was completely exasperated but that was about the worst of it. It showed that their normally calm, composed Captain was feeling the strain like the rest of them. But for some reason, it did make the crew feel better. If the brushfire was affecting Cap like that, then it was OK for them to feel the same way. It made the advice of containment and control, and then release for Station 51 even better.

First they had to get home. With an Engineer grumbling about the condition of his Engine. And about the condition of the firefighters riding in her. It was only somewhat consoling that at the staging point where they were released to find that he was only one of the small army of firefighters wearing the ubiquitous yellow blankets around them as they climbed into their engines – each with a scowling Engineer watching.

But now he was home. And though he was weary the lure of a hot shower was irrestible and he was half dozing, almost hypnotized by the water running down the drain. First almost black – the quick shower at the station only got surface grime off – then gradually becoming clean as he lathered himself from head to tow several times. Only then did he wrap himself in a towel and drag himself to his bed, flopping into it and curling up, sighing as he succumbed to sleep, his body finally relaxing.

* * *

"I don't care. None of you are getting into my Engine like that." Engineer Stoker stood by his engine, arms folded and a stubborn look on his face.

"Sorry, Pal. But that's the only way we're all getting back home." Captain Stanley was trying to be reasonable. He understood. At heart, he was still an Engineer himself. And he was as houseproud of his station and the vehicles as Stoker was of the Engine. But he wanted to get back to the barn, have a cup of coffee in a proper cup that didn't taste of ashes, a shower and then home and sleep for at least 12 hours, preferably with his wife in his arms.

But first they had to actually get back to the barn. Which was seeming more problematical with each passing second.

"We'll wrap blankets around us – put 'em on the seats." Mike just looked distainful at the suggestion. Suddenly he brightened and turned back to the Engine.

"Put your safety gear on and then put these on," he said, turning from the compartment he had gone to and holding up three pairs of roller skates.

Stanley was well and truly dumbfounded. "What the hell… Stoker what are you doing? And why are there roller skates stored in MY Engine? What are you planning to do with us and them?"

"And your safety belts, Cap." Stoker was almost shining in his earnestness. "You three put on your safety belts and the skates, and I'll tether you to the back of the Engine and tow you back. And it's MY Engine, Cap."

The two Station 51 Paramedics just looked at each other and began checking their trauma box contents. DeSoto radioed and asked if there was an ambulance available to follow them back to the Station. Just in case. They also quietly debated letting Rampart know, but decided that would just be tempting fate.

More.

Cap was looking at his Engineer as though said Engineer had just turned into a giant chicken. Or something. "You are joking," he finally got out. "I mean apart from how stupid we'll look, it's dangerous! If we loose our footing one of us could go under the wheels!"

"I've thought of that, Cap. I'll put Chet and Marco on the outside and you in the middle. They're shorter and less likely to actually reach the wheels. Especially if I make the lines shorter."

"Cap! You aren't actually considering this?" Chet's voice was plaintive, and Marco was muttering in Spanish, if the words they could hear were anything to go by, about insane Engineers, suicidal Captains and possibly transferring to a sane station.

"Well, we gotta get home somehow Chet. And this seems the most likely way."

"How about Marco and I ride on the back of the squad?"

"Now you know that's not possible, Chet. The Department has forbidden it under all but emergency circumstances."

* * *

The man tossed fitfully and muttered in his sleep, as if caught in a nightmare.

* * *

"Cap? You sure Stoker is OK? He's gone totally loco!"

The Captain sighed. "Marco, pal, I'm not even sure if I'm totally sane at the moment. I just want to get back to the Station, have a hot shower and get home to my bed and my wife." He sat on the rear running board of the engine and changed his boots for the skates. "Mike – make it a short tether. It'll be safer that way. And I can't believe I just said that."

"I don't believe you're actually gunna do this," Roy put in. "I also second Marco's question about Mike's sanity."

"OK, Mikey. I've checked all the knots and those tethers aren't gunna come apart until we take 'em apart. When they're ready to be hitched up, I'm OK to do the hitches." Johnny bounded up and clapped Stoker on the shoulder.

"Stop _encouraging_ him, Johnny!" Roy said, his eyes wide. Johnny just shrugged.

"If he's determined to do this, then it may as well be as safe as we can make it."

Marco and Chet just began to whimper as Cap ordered them to change into the skates.

* * *

The rear of the engine was coming closer, he wasn't able to stop. He was going to die smashed against the rear of the Engine he worked on when it stopped.

He screamed and tried to get out of the way of disaster…

And woke up on the floor, tangled in his bed clothes. His hands covered his face and he tried to slow his breathing down to a normal rate. It was over. They hadn't been towed in roller skates back to the Station. Instead they'd been one of a multitude of firefighters trying to sit in their seats on the yellow plastic blankets, with Engineers watching carefully to ensure that no unnecessary mess was left.

His muscles reminded him that the hard work he'd done had ended with the three Engine crew plus Cap washing and cleaning out the engine. At least Roy and Johnny had had to do the Squad as well.

At least Charlie Watson had been on and volunteered to cook for them. So the hot meal had gone a long way to helping feel better, and went some way to atone for the strict 5 minute shower that each was allowed.

He stood and dragged his bedding back onto his bed, climbed in and curled up to sleep. He sure wasn't going to share that particular dream with anybody.

It might give Mike Stoker ideas.


End file.
